


I'll let my words pour out (for numbers and decimals fail me)

by SnufkinsBeans



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light Angst, M/M, Ozai (Avatar) is an Asshole, but we knew that, can i make it more obvious, sokka's a math gay, zuko's an english gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:08:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26052442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnufkinsBeans/pseuds/SnufkinsBeans
Summary: Sokka's not a book person; his grades in english literature leave much to be desired.Zuko constantly looses himself in books and writing; they articulate so well the things he doesn't dare say outloud.In other words, Zuko tutors Sokka in english.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

"This is pointless! Can't we just go home? This is clearly just a waste of my time."  
Zuko felt his eye twitch as his scowl somehow managed to deepen. It had taken approximately fifteen minutes for Sokka to snap at him, (two minutes earlier than last time. Zuko kept count now) and he was already finding his own patience was wearing thin.  
"Your time?" He repeated, incredulous. "I'm not the one who needs tutoring."  
It was Sokka's turn to glare now, his gaze cold. "I don't need tutoring. I just don't like Shakespeare."   
Zuko rolled his eyes, reaching under the table to where Sokka had dropped his copy of 'Macbeth' and plopping it back in front of him. "That's not a good excuse and you know it."   
"Whatever." Sokka tapped his pen against the table, glaring so intensely at the book Zuko thought he might burn a hole in it.   
"Why don't you find some lower year kid and tutor them instead? Then I can actually go home after school and you still get to brag about how you taught Shakespeare to a stupid kid."   
"I don't think you're stupid!" Zuko snapped, banging his fist against the table. "Why would I still do these if I thought you were stupid?"  
This seemed to throw Sokka off guard for a moment before he scoffed, the cheap school chair squeaking as he leaned back in it. "You're wasting your time." He repeated, folding his arms. "I'm not a book person, no amount of tutoring will change that."   
Zuko shook his head, running a hand over his face as he shot a glance at the library clock; they still had another forty minutes stuck in the pasty cream walls of the library before this session was over and, despite this being their sixth session, they'd barely made it through Act 3.   
"That doesn't matter." Zuko said finally, fixing his gaze onto Sokka's. "Look, I know we're not exactly friends-"   
"That's the understatement of the year."   
"Whatever. But there's no reason why you can't write one decent response to one of these questions."  
"I just can't!" Sokka snapped again, throwing his hands up. "I've read the damn play, I know what happens and I think I get some of the meanings and stuff- I just can't, I can't write it down."   
Zuko quirked a brow. "Why not?"   
"I dunno! It's not like I'm saying anything revolutionary about it." Sokka scratched at his neck as he picked the exam questions up and it suddenly occurred to Zuko that the boy, for once, lacked confidence. "Everything that can be said about Macbeth has been said a hundred times, and I have no clue what the right awnser to either of these stupid questions are."  
Zuko shook his head again, snatching Sokka's notebook to flip through his notes. "You're thinking about it all wrong. This isn't maths, there isn't one right answer. You can say literally anything as long as you back it up with quotes."   
Sokka's brows furrowed again uncertainly, but Zuko pushed further, looking at him earnestly. "Maybe everything has been said already, but not from you. All you need to do, is talk about your opinion."   
He fumbled about in his pocket to grab his pen, popping the cap off before turning to a new page in the notebook, nodding at Sokka in what he hoped was an encouraging way. "Just pick a question, and say whatever comes to your mind, even if you think it's dumb."  
Sokka tilted his head with a strange, puzzled look on his face, as if he was scanning Zuko for something. Zuko didn't have time to dwell on it because Sokka started talking; small comments at first, about what scenes would be relevant to the question, before his arms unfolded, hands moving about animatedly as he started making connections between themes, motifs, even making a reference to another play.   
A small smile tugged at Zuko's lips as he jotted down what Sokka said, then it started to grow wider; a familiar feeling started to rise in his chest, the one he got whenever he got lost in an analysis, or when he read a line of prose that struck a chord with him.   
"Sokka, you've made some great points here, all you need to do is plan out your answer and write it." Zuko grinned, writing down some questions, underlining some points that needed to be developed. When he finally looked up from the notebook Sokka was looking at him in that strange way again, slowly taking the book out of his hands.  
"Well, I like planning." He said, slowly, and smiled. He didn't notice how Zuko froze, far too busy bullet-pointing underneath Zuko's handwriting, his tongue sticking out ever so slightly in concentration. Once their time was up they both packed quickly as they always did, nodding curtly to each other before leaving without another word.

The others were just about as enthusiastic about the arrangement as Sokka was.   
"Seriously, what were they thinking letting him tutor people, unsupervised, after school hours?" Katara said irritably, her apparent disdain for the boy seemingly still in full swing as she pulled blades of grass up in her fists.  
Aang, forever the pacifist, smiled dubiously, kicking his worn out football across the lawn towards Suki, who caught it skillfully with a dance of her feet. "I dunno. He's mellowed out a lot since last year."  
"Didn't he get into a fight with Jet like, four months ago?"   
An amused snort could be heard from where Toph lay on the grass, her guide dog sprawled across her legs, sniffing at Aang's Saint Bernard, Appa. "Knowing Jet he probably deserved it."  
"Hey, he's not that bad." Aang said sympathetically.  
"Jet or Zuko?"  
"Both of them." He sat down with his legs crossed over each other, the way he did when he meditated. "Jet's a lot nicer now since he left his old group, and- and Zuko's changed a lot as well, he's just…"   
"What? Misunderstood?" Suki suggested, placing herself next to Toph, smiling as Appa licked at her arm.  
"Yeah. I think so."   
Sokka grunted, feigning indifference as he back on his hands. The familiar image of the angry, hot-headed boy now seemd more obscure, now only a small fragment in the strange mosiac that was Zuko. Before their tutoring sessions he'd never had an inkling of interest in the boy, assuming he had him all figured out, but that notion was thrown away the minute he saw Zuko secretive smile, lost in this world of literature and language that seemed so strange to him.   
"Besides, he's choosing to tutor Sokka," Aang was saying,stroking the arrow shaped pattern on Appa's forehead. "That's worth some points, right?"  
Sokka scoffed, shrugging off the image of Zuko hunched over books in the artificial library light. "Wait till my next report card comes, then we'll talk Zuko points."


	2. Chapter 2

Next time they met Sokka promptly produced two pieces of paper stapled together, unceremoniously dropping it in front of Zuko, sitting across from him with an expectant look. Zuko frowned at him.  
"I can't concentrate if you keep staring at me. Read the next scene."  
Sokka pursed his lips slightly in annoyance, but complied, taking the book out of his bag, glancing up every now and then to try and gage Zuko's reactions, chewing at his fingernails.   
He'd written more than Zuko had expected, but although he'd mentioned all the points in his plan, his writing style however, left much to be desired, still far too rigid, like reading from a rushed script.  
"This is a good start." He said finally, looking up from the paper. “But you’re limiting yourself. You’re not letting the words flow.”  
Sokka’s shoulders slumped slightly, and Zuko, terrified that the little progress they’d made was about to vanish into thin air, quickly reached out and clapped his hand somewhat awkwardly against Sokka’s shoulder, desperately trying to think of something encouraging to say..   
“You... can do it.”   
Sokka blinked at him, glancing at his hand then back at his face. “Right.” He said slowly with a quirked brow, the smallest of smiles ghosting his lips. “Can I- Is it okay if I record these?” He pulled his phone out of the pocket of his faded denim jacket; that was against the uniform rules but apparently the teachers had given up on telling him off for it. “It’s just the last time when we were talking it, uh, made it easier, so I thought it’d be good if I could play our sessions back.”  
Zuko nodded. “Um, yeah, go for it.”   
He made an attempt to speak a little more clearly as he went over Sokka’s answer with him, pointing out which areas needed more backing up with text references, which ones rambled on for too long, and suggesting better word choices to emphasise his points, all whilst Sokka listened, crossing out and rewriting bits to Zuko’s suggestions. Now they had found a method that worked for them, Zuko was even more aware of the fact that Sokka had a strong voice; well, not his voice, even though he could be pretty loud, but the way he thought things through. Even though he was struggling to translate his ideas into writing, the way he explained his thought process was captivating; Zuko couldn’t help but watch as his eyes starting light up when he started getting into, a small grin tugging on his face when Sokka would pause mid-sentence to try and write something down.  
For the first time ever, their tutoring session went by quickly, Zuko only realising when he glanced down at Sokka’s phone, which had been recording for just over an hour now. He looked over Sokka’s answer again, nodding in approval. “That’s better. We’re done now, but if you wanna ask about something just text me.”  
There was a pause, and for a moment Zuko wondered if Sokka hadn’t heard him when the other boy cleared his throat. “I don’t have your number.”  
“Oh.” Zuko briefly wondered if he’d crossed a line; ‘we aren’t friends’, he reminded himself, starting to busy himself with packing when Sokka waved his phone under his nose, looking at him expectantly.  
At Zuko’s blank expression he raised a brow. “Your number?” He prompted, and noticed with some amusement that Zuko’s cheeks flushed ever so slightly as he snatched his phone out his hand, typing his number in.  
“Cool.” He felt a small smile form on his face, growing wider at the look of slight bewilderment in Zuko’s eyes; something he was starting to realise was that the image of Zuko he’d made in his mind was very unlike the one he was seeing now. They packed their things without another word, Sokka rocking on his heels as he slung his bag over his shoulder. “Well. I’ll see you next time, then  
“Yeah. Bye.” Zuko nodded, adjusting his own bag strap before abruptly turning and walking out the silent library, disappearing behind the white plastic shelves.

Sokka spent his evening in his room, Zuko's raspy voice swam softly in his head, muttering something about reoccurring motifs as he typed away at his starch white word document. The recording proved itself useful, as he finished typing up his answer in less than two hours. He flopped back onto his bed with relief, prepared for his usual bedtime routine of mindless scrolling through his phone when he paused, opening his contacts app.  
He stared at the assortment of numbers, titled simply as Zuko; should he text him to let him know he did the work?   
His fingers hovered over the keyboard, typing, deleting, typing, deleting, typing, deleting, never hitting send.


	3. Chapter 3

“I got you something.”  
Zuko raised his brow at this, watching the other boy fish through his bag to produce a packet of..  
“...Fire flake crisps?”  
“No need to thank me.” Sokka grinned, actually grinned at him; it struck Zuko suddenly how strangely familiar it was. He'd only seen at a distance before; at the opposite end of their english class when an auburn haired girl whispered to him, in the lunch hall recounting an over-exaggerated story to his table full of friends as they hung to his every word, or leaning against the bus window on the ride home, listening to his sister rant. He returned to reality at the sound of Sokka tapping on a piece of paper, drawing his attention to the green pen in the upper left corner.  
“Twenty marks out of thirty?”  
“It’s not the best, but it’s better than what I usually get on these.” He rubbed his neck, and it may have been Zuko’s imagination, but he actually looked a bit sheepish. “And, uh, I couldn’t have done it without your help, so I wanted to get something to say thanks, and I’d see you eat these before so, uh, yeah.”  
He looked so earnestly at Zuko he couldn’t help but smile a little, feeling his cheeks redden as he waved his hand dismissively. “It’s nothing. It was all your ideas anyways, I didn’t do much.”  
Sokka quirked a brow at him. “Dude. Do you want the crisps or not?”  
Zuko found himself smiling, opening the packet and eating one with a satisfying crunch before holding the packet out to Sokka. “Share?”  
For a moment Sokka found himself staring as he reached to take a handful of crisps, only realising when Zuko averted his eyes, strategically fixing his hair so part of his fringe covered his scar. Sokka noticed he did that a lot, subconsciously trying to hide it even when nobody was staring at it. Well, not nobody, Sokka stared at it; not intentionally of course, or with malicious intent, and not even at the scar specifically. He just found himself looking at Zuko more often nowadays, even starting to feel familiar with some of his mannerisms; like how he smiled a lot more than Sokka had thought, his eyes lighting up before his mouth caught up with them, and how he put his face a little too close to the pages of the books he read, partially because his left eye didn’t work so well and partially because he liked to curl up when he read, like a cat, or how he was easily frustrated, often making a snarky comment with Sokka when they butted heads, but even when he got annoyed and cut the sessions short he never gave up, because for some reason, Zuko wanted to help him.  
This was a very long-winded way of saying; Sokka thought Zuko was nice.  
“Are you gonna look at the question or are you just gonna keep staring at me?” Zuko’s voice was cold, his face twisted in some strange mix of embarrassment and frustration.  
“I wasn’t staring.” Sokka felt his face flush as he realised with some horror that was exactly what he was doing.  
Zuko’s scowl deepened, eyes fixated at a dried spot of ink on the table. “You were. Everyone does. It’s ugly.”  
“No it’s not.” Sokka could vaguely remember when Zuko returned to school after a six month hiatus, his glare seemingly as permanent as the deep red scar he now sported. He would often snap at people in the corridors then, asking them what the hell they were staring at before storming off, eyes wide, his arms folded tight to his chest. He had wondered how it had happened of course,everyone did. But the last kid who commented on it got sent to the nurses office with a bloody nose, and Zuko to the headmaster's, staring blankly at his hands as if he didn't recognise them.  
Zuko scoffed at him, shifting through the papers neatly organised in his red folder. “Yeah, whatever.”  
“No really. It’s kinda cool, actually.”  
Zuko’s head snapped up sharply, his expression unreadable as he balked at Sokka. An uncomfortable silence washed over them, and just as Sokka was starting to wonder if he said something insensitive, Zuko pushed a question paper in front of him.  
“Pick another question. They’re the same style as the last one so it should be easier this time.”  
The periodic ticking of the library clock was the only sound that saved them from a cool silence, Zuko speaking occasionally only to comment on Sokka's writing, and Sokka to respond appropriately.  
He didn't think anyone had ever complimented his scar with sincerity, let alone look at it without a trace of revulsion or pity.  
 _'It's okay._ ' He thought to himself, eyes growing distant as he watched Sokka's hand scribble across the page. _'I'm used to it. I don't care what anyone says about it.'  
_ And yet despite this, he could only see red in his mind's eye; blood staining the carpet, the smell of burning flesh, a crazed look on a cruel man's face, how he screamed and rolled like a wounded animal as strong arms pulled him away.


	4. Chapter 4

It wasn't long before Zuko and Sokka established a routine of sorts when it came to their tutoring sessions. The focus shifted each time, on different types of questions, different themes, scenes, characters; despite Zuko's insistence that literature was nothing like maths or science, Sokka still found ways to think numerically. He started doing the questions timed, figuring out exactly how much time he needed to read the extracts and how long to spend on each question; his writing was still quite stiff, but slowly it was improving, like his arms and hands were made of rusting metal but were now being oiled.  
This did not, however, mean he enjoyed the process.  
“Finally!” Sokka practically groaned with relief when the clock sounded for four o'clock, stretching out in his chair as Zuko finished up writing his feedback, his blue waterproof coat squeaking against his back. “I thought it’d never end. No offence.”  
“None taken.” Zuko replied dryly, handing his notebook back. “The feeling’s mutual.”  
Sokka made an indignant sound, putting his hand to his chest as if hurt “And here I thought you enjoyed my company, Jerkface.”  
“Don’t call me Jerkface!”  
Sokka snickered; sometimes Zuko’s face would scrunch up when he snapped, his mouth pursing as his eyes crinkled in the corners. Sokka liked to imagine cartoony steam coming out his ears.  
Zuko huffed, shoving his things into his bag, feeling a slight pang of guilt despite himself. He hadn’t meant to snap at him; sometimes he felt as if his mouth ran on an entirely different programme from his brain, constantly saying these he always regretted later, causing him no end of trouble. Sokka didn’t seem to be fazed by it, he never was. Everything seemed to wash off his back like water, leaving him unaffected, his head held high; even when they were younger, when Zuko was at his worst, when his actions and words were scalding and harsh, Sokka remained aloof, unaffected.  
He swallowed, glancing at Sokka’s hands as he sorted his papers; a blue and white beaded bracelet hung from his wrist.  
He remembered seeing it for the first time two tables away from him; he watched Katara tie it there when they were younger, when she was nine, maybe ten, and Sokka eleven. It was their last day of primary school, and despite the fact that they lived together, and would soon be going to the same school again, Katara was slightly tearful, becoming more clingy towards her brother in those upcoming days. Sokka pretended to be embarrassed at the notion of wearing it, but on the first day of secondary school Zuko remembered seeing him fiddle with it in class, slightly red indentations in his wrist where the beads dug in. Zuko remembered pulling at it during one of their scraps, the skin of his elbows tearing as he was pushed against the gravel, Sokka’s eyes angry and wet as the beads dropped lighty like rain.  
It was loose now, slightly worn out and faded from years of wear.  
“I’m sorry.” He found himself blurting in a rush, Sokka looking at him confused and somewhat startled. “I- Your bracelet. I don’t think I ever apologized for breaking it. I’m sorry.”  
Sokka stared at him with furrowed brows, shoulders hunching slightly as he spoke, defensiveness rising at the mere mention of the incident. There was no insincerity or derisiveness in Zuko's tone however, and he relaxed, looking at him perplexed.  
“It’s...it’s okay.” He said slowly, almost hesitant. “...I forgive you.”  
Zuko nodded curtly, eyes slightly wide as they continued to pack in silence, looking at everything but each other. When Zuko started walking in the same direction as him, Sokka raised a brow, but otherwise said nothing, pushing the back doors of the school open only to groan slightly in annoyance; rain was pattering down against the tarmac of the carpark, dripping down from the bit of roof that sheltered them.  
Sokka pulled his phone out his jacket; his dad was already on his way to pick him, making him sigh with some relief. He glanced down at Zuko, who was staring out intensely at the rain with reservation. Sokka cleared his throat.  
“Do you wanna get a lift with me and my Dad? We can drop you off.”  
The offer seemed to surprise him, but he shook his head.  
“I need to stop by the supermarket first. I’ll walk.”  
Sokka glanced down at the coat he had wrapped up in his arm and, after a brief moment of thought, unfolded it and held it out to Zuko, who jolted, looking almost alarmed.  
“What are you doing?”  
“You don’t have a coat, do you?” Sokka raised a brow. At the shake of Zuko’s head he pushed it lightly into his arms, promptly looking away to stare at the rain with sudden interest. The sound of pouring rain was soon accompanied by the rustling of material next to him, and he hazard a glance out of the corner of his eye; Zuko was staring at the ground with furrowed brows, the coat zipped up all the way with the hood up, almost obscuring his whole face. He pulled the sleeves down, the tips of his fingers peeking out from underneath.  
Sokka felt something stir faintly in his chest. He ignored it.  
“Thanks.” Zuko said, slightly muffled, pushing the hood up a tad to look at Sokka properly.  
“No problem.”  
The rain beat down.  
“I’ll return it tomorrow.”  
“Okay.”  
“Okay.” Zuko took a step out from under the roof, the water already causing dark splodges to blossom on the coat. He glanced back. “Bye.”  
Sokka flashed a small smile. “See ya.”  
He watched Zuko’s retreating figure until it disappeared around the corner, listening to the thunderous pounding of the rain against the roof as he waited for the sight of his father’s car.

Water from the raincoat dripped onto the cold hard floors of the supermarket as Zuko wandered the isles, a pop song he had heard twenty times before started playing, echoing feebly through the sterile walls as he went through the list of what his Uncle asked for; cabbages, carrots, spring onions, pork chops, barbeque sauce, …  
Along the way he ended up stopping just in front of one of the refrigerated cabinets, staring into it for so long the cold started swirling out in faint whisps, making him shiver into the coat collar. It was probably overdue for a wash; a musky scent filled his nostrils, not as unpleasant as he thought it’d be, mixing faintly with the fruity lingering of Sokka’s cologne and the sweetness of his own skin. He brought the collar a little closer to his nose, wondering if a chocolate cheesecake was better than a strawberry one. Chocolate would be sweeter, surely, and if his memory served him right, she liked sweet things.  
At the self-checkout he tied the plastic shopping bag like a parcel, holding it close to his chest before making his way back home, the water seeping through his shoes. All the way he breathed in the smell of Sokka’s coat, in and out, in and out, his hands carefully resting under the box of the chocolate cheesecake that rustled against the plastic.


	5. Chapter 5

Sokka always went to the same three places for lunch. There was a particular tree in the courtyard he would sit under, usually to finish off homework that was due in the next thirty minutes, food in one hand, pen in the other. There was Mr Bato’s classroom, which had the best view of the courtyard below; then there was one of the outdoor benches, situated perfectly between the lunch hall and the field, where he’d often play football with Suki before running over to the bench when the rest of the gang arrived, his shirt dishevelled and his tie hanging loosely around his neck.  
It struck Zuko as he followed the staircase outside, how ironic it was he knew exactly where to go to find Sokka, despite all his gargantuan efforts to avoid him in the past. It was like he was always there in the background; he remembered how he gritted his teeth when he overheard the other’s boisterous voice, how every time their eyes would meet they’d scowl deeply.  
This memory did nothing to reassure him as he stepped out to the courtyard, his shoulders hunched stiffly as he carried the blue parka in his arms. He wondered briefly if he should just spare himself the trouble and wait until their tutoring session to return it, but he didn’t want to keep it for longer than he had to, carrying around this thing that smelled like Sokka; when he’d arrived home the afternoon before he kept it on for a little while, the squeaky brushing of the material filling the kitchen as he put the shopping away, his heart beating a little quicker each time he got a whiff of Sokka’s cologne, feeling as though he was doing something he shouldn't.  
He didn’t have time to dwell on that any longer as he now approached the table where they all sat. Sokka’s eyes met his, Zuko’s name passing his lips in a startled surprise as he rose to his feet.  
All eyes were on Zuko now, and it didn’t escape him how the rest of their faces steeled up instantly upon his appearance, their eyes watching him like how a bird watches a cat. He bowed his head slightly, holding the coat out at arm's length in front of him.  
“Thanks for letting me borrow it.” He was finally able to mumble, already starting to back away once Sokka took the coat out his hands, their fingers ghosting each other for a brief second. “I’ll see you later, then-”  
“Wait!” Sokka reached out as if about to grab his hand, but stopped himself, clearing his throat. “Uh, I won’t make it to today’s session cos Suki has a match today- we’re all going.”  
“Oh.” A pang of disappointment blossomed briefly in his chest then wilted quickly. “That’s alright.”  
“Ya got any homework for me?”  
At Sokka’s words the others blinked incredulously, balking at the back of his head. Even Zuko found it surprising, raising a brow at him before swinging his bag off his shoulder, rummaging through it to pull out a pale purple paperback book that had certainly seen better days.  
He paused for a moment, gingerly holding it in his hands; this wasn’t the one he meant to pack. The book itself was rather unremarkable; a collection of poems from various countries.   
Countless copies could likely be found at any book shop, millions of people probably had it on their shelves, their bedside tables, even in their hands, just like him. Yet they were all different. Zuko turned it over in his hands; the spine was wrinkled from years of being folded and bent, the pages curled up in the corners from being dog-eared over and over again, the paper indented with ink from where he’d written all over them, and, notably, a faded brown stain lingered on the bottom of the pages; he had spilled tea on it when leaning over his mother’s arm to see what she was writing, apologising profusely for ruining her book. He could still remember her smile as she scooped him up into her arms, reassuring him he’d made it more unique; his heart swelled as he reminded himself of this; No other copy had his thoughts and words spilled all over the pages, no other copy had his mother’s handwriting in red pen, no other copy was his.  
When Zuko finally looked up again Sokka was watching him peculiarly; he felt his face flush slightly, and, deciding it would look too strange if he put it away and left Sokka with nothing, he handed the book hesitantly to Sokka as he adjusted his bag strap, feeling slightly more relaxed about handing it over when Sokka held it securely to his chest.  
“We’re gonna be moving onto poetry.” Zuko's mouth twitched into a small smirk as Sokka's face instantly fell, an amused huff escaping him. “You don’t have to write anything yet, just find one that you like.”  
“You underestimate how much I hate poetry.”  
His smirk unknowingly widened slightly into a smile, momentarily distracted by how Sokka's eyes seemed to light up before he noticed the others were still watching them, still very guarded, but there seemed to be confusion in there as well.  
His smile faded as he started to feel uncomfortable again. "Anyway. Tomorrow, then?"  
"I'll be there." Sokka said, looking at the ground rather than at him.  
He nodded, starting to step away when he paused, risking a glance towards Suki, who seemed surprised when their eyes met. "Good luck for your game." He mumbled, rushing away quickly before she could respond.

A silence lingered over the group before Aang spoke up, his voice slightly hesitant, but positive. "Well, that was nice of him."  
Katara scoffed, focusing her attention back to her lunch, jabbing her chopsticks into it with more force than needed. "Just because he said 'good luck' doesn't mean he's nice."  
"I certainly wasn't expecting it." Suki's hazel eyes looked thoughtful, examining the bite marks of her apple as she chewed. "At least he's trying, I guess."  
Sokka stayed quiet for a moment as he settled back into his seat, looking up at Katara's frowning face as he fiddled with the bracelet on his wrist.  
"He actually apologised, last session." He blurted out, seemingly still confused about the whole ordeal. "About breaking my bracelet."  
Katara paused, mid-chew, her eyebrows raising in surprise before they quickly furrowed again, her voice bitter. "He's only six years too late."  
"Damn, Sugar Queen." Toph had an amused smirk on her face. "I forgot you could be so snarky."  
"I don't take kindly to people who hurt my friends." Katara said coldly, shoulders stiff.  
They dropped the subject, much to Sokka's relief, normal conversation picking up again as they ate; about Suki's football match, about homework they hadn't done, about what movie they'd watch together later that weekend. Sokka blocked out all thoughts of Zuko for now, opting to busy himself with sneaking food out of Katara's lunch box instead.

Sokka was already in their usual spot at the library when Zuko arrived, his feet propped up on the table as he gazed out the window, eyes distant and hazy until he noticed the other boy come in.  
He nodded his head out towards the window. "Pretty clouds."  
Zuko glanced out before nodding, starting to unpack his things. "Yeah. Fluffy."  
Sokka watched him with some interest, his cheek mushed up as he rested it against his palm. "I read your book."  
"Did you find a poem you liked?"  
He hesitated for a moment before nodding, pulling the tattered book out of his bag. The night before he had intended to briefly flick through it to find the least insufferable looking poem, already dressed for bed and under his covers. So imagine his surprise when he ended up spending hours looking though almost every poem; not because he was suddenly captivated by the poems themselves, but because of Zuko's handwriting sprawling out around them, his insights and thoughts about each stanza, each line, each syllable was there for him to see. Sokka found himself thinking he worded himself much more eloquently than some of the poets in there.  
He brought himself back to the present, flicking through the book until he found the one that had caught his attention, handing it back to Zuko.  
'To The Moon' by Percy Shelley.  
It wasn't a long poem; two stanzas, twelve lines, but even the shortest poems could have the strongest effects on people, touching their hearts in that unique way only poetry could.  
Sokka leaned back in his chair, arms folded over his chest. "It, uh, reminds me of my first girlfriend. She passed away three years ago."  
Zuko frowned sympathetically, searching his brain for something reassuring to say. "That's rough, buddy."  
He inhaled sharply with embarrassment, causing an amused smile to tug at Sokka's lips; for someone who wrote so beautifully he was awful at talking.  
"She really loved the moon. Anything to do with space, really.” Sokka found himself continuing, a sad yet fond smile on his face. “She’d tell me all these little space facts, and she’d point out all the constellations and name them.”  
Zuko leaned forward, resting his chin in his palm as he listened intently. “My uncle says those who take the time to admire the night sky are some of the most beautiful people you’ll meet.”  
“She was.” Sokka found himself smiling more, and, to his pleasant surprise, Zuko smiled back.  
“What was her name?”  
“Yue.”  
A dry laugh escaped him, partially because of Zuko’s stunned expression, and partially because of the absurd fact that he was talking about his dead ex-girlfriend with the guy he used to hate.  
“Her mum was chinese.” He explained, tapping his fingers gently against the table. “Yue adored her name though. She told me she wanted to dye her hair white so she could match with the moon even more...This probably sounds really stupid, but I like to imagine she’s up there, y’know? Close to the moon and the stars like she wanted.” It struck Sokka suddenly that he hadn’t ever talked about her this much ever since her death, not even to Katara or his father. He cleared his throat, blinking away the wetness in his eyes. “Sorry, I- I dunno why I’m talking about this.”  
Zuko shook his head vigorously. “It’s fine. Really. You...You can talk about her more. If you want.” He mumbled, staring at his hands as he twiddled his thumbs awkwardly.  
Sokka blinked, staring at him for a long moment as more of his apprehension towards the boy crumbled away. He thought it before in passing, but now it was starting to solidify in his brain that Zuko was...nice.  
Sokka’s silence made him look up, his gaze locking onto his with a furrowed brow. “What is it?”  
“Nothin’.  
He held Sokka’s gaze for a moment before dropping his eyes back to the poetry book, his thumb running over it in a loving way. “..We should look at the poem now.”  
“Whatever you say.” Sokka smiled, slightly cheeky. “Buddy.”  
Zuko’s face flushed a delightful shade of pink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow just realized i wasn't leaving notes asjl  
> hi everyone :)


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